Point, Click
by Beijing
Summary: Years after the notsomysterious and rather irritating disappearance of a Skool counselor, a certain Paranormal Investigator is confronted with an unexpected surprise. DibxDwicky fic, simple for now. Enjoy.
1. Hello Again

Alright, for anybody wondering or thinking this is a trick, I am the original author of Point, Click (eightstarxstreetlight) You can see an extended explanation in my profile/bio. I will be continuing the story on this pen name. Other than that, this is a first time fic :) Enjoy!

Disclaimer: The Invader ZIM series and all of its characters are copyright Jhonen Vasquez & Nickelodeon.

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_Bump. Swing. Grind. Push._

The familiar pattern in body rhythms played against the skinny boy's torso, sweat and hot breath mingling together in an erotic mixture that brought on a rush of dizzy euphoria. Neon rays splayed out across the crowd, dancing over the damp mass of hair and flesh, as industrial-techno deafened any other sound in the dark room. Tired of the repetitive movements in tonight's dance, the lithe figure slipped from between the mass of bodies, coveting eyes latched to him, trailing after the beautiful silhouette yearningly. Coat tugged from the hook on the wall, the boy exited between two abnormally hulking men, both of which eyed him with a familiar sense of brutal desire.

Out on the wet concrete, he tugged a slender paper tube from a pack, and tucked the end into his mouth-- lips dry and worn from breathing hard and dehydration. Snapping open a black matte zippo, his thumb struck the rough wheel, forcing life into the singed wick. The flame sputtered, protesting against the breeze that teased at its existence. He cupped his skeletal fingers around the fire protectively, and brought it in, sucking up a mouthful of smoke and carcinogens. Then, without mercy, he whipped his wrist in a short arc, smothering the lighter in a moment and tucking the tiny object back into his pocket. Fingers gently pinching the cigarette, he drew in another hit before pulling it away, feet strolling casually beneath him, instinctively carrying him home.

At his front door, the boy stared at the cracked and peeling paint, the swollen wood beneath it. He'd never understood, with his father being the greatest scientific mind in the city, and all the technologically advanced hardware infesting the house, why they always had a plain hardwood door. Why not reinforced steel? Or titanium? Something more fitting for such a home.

_I hate this place._ A single boot connected with the loathed door, shoving it wide open.

It was instantaneous-- that grating, cynical tone.

" Haven't you ever heard of _knocking?_ "

His eyes didn't even bother to look at his robotic sister, he knew the familiar position-- sitting on the edge of the sofa, hunched over, fingers working madly at the buttons on a shiny control pad.

" Its my house too. I live here. "

" Its called courtesy, Dib. Didn't your little alien friend teach you anything? "

He narrowed his eyes at the bent form on the couch, envying the impenetrable spite. Without a further word, Dib moved into the kitchen, swinging the refrigerator door open and taking up the carton of milk-- another thing he'd never understood, why weren't they beaming pure filtered calcium into a milk dispenser by now? A few other questions zoomed through his head even as his fingers folded out the torn diamond of paper and he chugged down several gulps, relieving the parched ache in his mouth.

" That's sick, you know. " Gaz, ever-glued to her handheld, elbowed him out of her way and paused the game momentarily to snatch a cold piece of leftover pizza. Munching on the congealed food, she didn't bother to await another drab, thoughtless remark from her brother, marching back out to the living room. It was a surprise her brain hadn't dissolved by now from all those video games-- it wasn't like anyone intervened in her one-track lifestyle.

Dib, still holding the carton of milk, wiped the back of his hand over his mouth before folding the thin cardboard-like opening shut again, and replaced it on the shelf in the fridge. Running his clean hand through his hair, that insane cowlick momentarily flattened out with its brethren, but by the time he'd reached his room, the strands had popped back up again, angling out awkwardly from his temple before jetting to the back of his head. Plopping down into his office chair-- a leftover relic from his father's old laboratory-- Dib reclined into the dusty cushions lining the tall-backed seat, eyes absently scanning over the collection of papers and manila folders on the wide corner desk.

_Fourteen years I've been doing this._ The thought came like a separate being, etching itself into his mind before being wiped away, like writing in sand. _Always looking out, always researching, always--_

_Saving people who don't want to be saved._

No. They did want to be saved. Or at least, they weren't aware of their _need_ to be saved. But they would, if they knew. If only they knew, they'd all come running to Dib, crying out their apologies and pleas for aid. Perhaps even his own father, so steeped in all his scientific knowledge, would look to his only-- and previously shunned-- son, for help.

All these thoughts of success spurred a twinge at the corner of his mouth. But what would have become an over glorified full-blown grin when he was but a child, merely subsided back into his dull, impassive expression. Sighing dejectedly, he sat forward in the chair, reaching up to click on the overhead stream of tube lights that lined his desk, instantly flooding the stretch of white paper and shabby hard board beneath with near-blinding artificial radiance.

Bigfoot.

Area 51.

Turkey man.

Bat boy.

Crop circles. Sky lights. Radar blips. Elvis. Meteors. Signals. Undisclosed transmissions.

The desktop was lined from one end to the other with headline after headline, articles and essays, quotes and interviews, all centered around one topic:

_Aliens._

The word made Dib quiver with anticipation-- one day he would prove it to the world. The label of "weird" would forever be banished from his name. Nibbling at his lower lip, he had just reached toward a paper clipped packet of papers tagged "FOSTER'S", when that incessant, jarring voice made his hand contract slightly.

" There's someone at the door. " Gaz stood in the doorway of his room, glowering no doubt over being interrupted from her gameplay.

Dib glanced sideways at her, both fearing and loathing her inability to be civil to him. " Then why don't you answer it? " The question came out honestly curious and innocuous, as if he couldn't understand why she would have to inform him of the presence of a guest before she could open the door.

" .. for _you, _stupid. " Before she was overwhelmed with the urge to impale Dib's oddly large head on one of his fluorescent light tubes, Gaz turned back down the hallway, settling back into her game for a second time.

" For me? " Again with the childlike innocence. No one ever visited him, no one ever had. It wasn't like he had friends. One time he'd been visited by someone-- but it was both startling and unwelcome. The motive behind the meeting was just as unprecedented as well. The whole day had turned out to be one of the worst he'd ever experienced in his short life at the time. He'd hadn't touched a piece of bologna since.

Rising from his seat, he left his desk and meandered out to the living room. Figures the door was shut-- Gaz was never one to be polite with strangers. Wrapping his fingers around the doorknob, he swung the door wide, and felt his stomach drop into his feet.

" Dib? "

" ... Dwicky? "

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Read&Review please&thankyou :)


	2. Lunch?

Chapter two, apparently. :) Hope its as pleasing as the first.

Disclaimer: Invader ZIM and all its characters belong to Jhonen Vasquez and Nickelodeon.

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White steam coiled up around Dib's hand, his skin searing lightly with the concentrated heat. Just when it seemed unbearable, he tipped the kettle back up and set it on its plastic platform. One of those newer forms of boilers-- heat from an electrical coil at the center boiled the whole thing and all of its contents in less than sixty seconds. Tossing teaspoon after teaspoon of ingredients in, he finished up with a quick spill of cold milk into the ceramic cup, swirled the mixture with a spoon and carried it over to the round table-- another relic never plagued with the prospect of being replaced by something hi-tech and shiny.

Launching the cup across the table, foreign fingers unwound to catch the warm cup of coffee before it sailed off the end of the table-- luckily, nothing sloshed out.

" So how have you been, Dib? "

_Infuriating. Deceitful._

" I heard you got a couple books published-- I'm so proud. "

_Devious. Two-faced. _

" I'm glad I found you so easily. Its great to see you again. "

_Traitor._

" You've changed so much since I last saw-- "

" What do you want. "

Dwicky's previously charming expression-- a habit burned into his personality since college-- flinched at the sudden bite of the skinny boy's tone.

" Wha-- I.. well. Um.. "

Suddenly the words didn't come so easily. And the intense glare his companion was pinning him with wasn't helping either. He tried again, as he was trained to do.

" Dib, you'd never believe what I've seen-- "

" No, I probably wouldn't. After all, I'm only disillusioned and going through a phase. "

The former counselor stared up at the frail teenager, unaware of the surprise that had trickled into his face at Dib's unprecedented speech. This was by far the last thing he'd expected, this terrible turn in the odd little boy's normally bright and eager personality. Dwicky wasn't even sure if he had the right person-- this figure standing before him, this skeletal image of a boy, was it really the Dib he'd once traversed all over the city park with?

Dib glowered down at the man sitting in Gaz's usual place at the table, a burning antipathy zeroing in on the form. Uncontrolled, perceptible hatred seething from his every movement, every sound.

_Why did you abandon me?_

_Why did you deceive me?_

_Why did you?_

_**Why**__?_

Questions came like rushing water, flooding Dib's head and drowning him in his boiling anger. He hadn't even bothered to sit down-- he wanted so badly to lunge at this man, to wrap his scrawny fingers around his throat and _squeeze._

" D-.. Dib, I'm.. I don't know what to say. "

" Yeah, I'm sure you don't. "

" Everything you said-- all those things you believed in, they're true! " Dwicky grasped desperately, educated indefinitely in the art of nestling right into people's trust and comfort-- but not in the art of apologizing.

" You were right, Dib, and I believe you now-- "

" I bet you do. "

That knifelike glare hadn't subsided one bit, and if it weren't for Dwicky's ever supplemental naïveté, he would have trembled in fear for his life. Dib towered over him now, contrasting to when he last saw the boy. He was barely reaching a full three feet then, nearly up to Dwicky's knees. His head still didn't seem to quite fit his shoulders though..

" Why did you leave me? "

The question shattered Dwicky's wandering thoughts, and brought him back to that uncomfortable cornered feeling under Dib's hateful stare.

" Well-- Dib.. understand me, it was a once-in-a-lifetime thing.. "

" Oh yeah!? I could never have guessed! " That high-pitched shriek entered Dib's voice now, as it always did. An unfortunate carry-on from his pre-pubescent days. It had never seemed to fade away, and he would have blushed in embarrassment now if it weren't for the distracting vehemence of his rant.

" You completely betrayed me! Deluded me to the brim, then abandoned me with the only proof I ever truly obtained in my entire _career!!_ "

Dwicky stared wide-eyed at Dib, the feeble body heaving with the effort of getting his point across in such a wild and unsophisticated manner. Utterly stripped of all possible responses, Dwicky simply sat there, pressed back against the back of the chair in a futile attempt to escape Dib's verbal rampage.

Amidst the tangible strain between the two, footsteps signaled the arrival of Gaz. Dib didn't move-- thus, neither did Dwicky. Gaz, on the other hand, stalked over to the refrigerator, jerked it open, and retrieved a can of soda. Shoving the door closed, Gaz turned to face the pair as she cracked open the can, the hiss of released pressure like a siren in the tense silence of the room. A couple sips and a glower later, Gaz walked from the room, calling out cynically as she went.

" You two are so weird. "

Twitching from his frozen position, Dib unclenched his aching hands to press them palms-in to the side of his head, eyes shutting tightly. That _word_-- would it never cease? Just before he was about to kick his chair over, the last voice he wanted to hear piped up with the worst possible thing to say at the moment.

" Dib? Uh-- maybe we could umm, go out for lunch sometime. You know, catch up some? "

Dib's eyes snapped open, and his hands fell from the side of his head. A dangerous calm settled over him, as he watched the older man cowering in the chair.

" No" The answer was curt, and followed by the swift movement of the speaker from the room. As Dwicky rose cautiously to peek around the corner of the room where Dib had exited, he observed the boy pulling the front door open wide; cold, resentful eyes resting ultimately on Dwicky's childish own. The hint clearly taken, Dwicky resisted the urge to scamper and forced a composed pace into his stride.

Pausing on the doorstep, Dwicky turned, index finger raised to literally make a point, only to be met face-first with the deafening _slam_. As if in consolation, a gentle wash of cool air cascaded over him, ruffling the unruly black hair covering his head.

As he stared at the cracked wood of the door, a couple chips of ancient paint floated down in front of him, and his eyes followed them down, down, until they rested on the tops of his shoes. With the paint chips, went a shimmer of hope that Dib would accept him as generously as he had the first time.


	3. Bouncers

Chapter two, apparently

Wow, guys. I am so sorry. Haven't updated in a while, and here I am tossing out a little bitty scrap for you all. : Waaah. This is only part a, Imma' write up a part b a.s.a.p., I promise. Do be patient with me, lotsa' stuff going on in my life right now.

Disclaimer: Invader ZIM and all its characters are copyright Jhonen Vasquez & Nickelodeon Studios.

* * *

On the outside, it was cool, still, collected-- a confident boy, sure of his split second decision.

On the inside, it was hell.

Dib's hand twitched, and without even realizing it, he lifted his hand, fingers spread just barely in that innocent, longing gesture, reaching for the paneled wood of the door. When flesh finally made contact with the coarse surface, Dib recognized what he was doing, and instantly ripped his hand from the air, clutching it to his skinny body as if to protect it from some cloaked danger. Glaring bewilderedly at nothing but the harmless door, Dib finally spun on his heel and marched for his room, bypassing any further judgment from his contemptuous sibling. Striding faster than usual into his room, the fragile body bent over the desk, palms down on the field of softly lit white papers.

_How could he? How could he even __**dare**__?_ Questions raced through Dib's wracked brain like runaway train cars. _This is so stupid. I should have never even allowed him through the door, I should have just shut it on his damn face—_

_So why didn't you?_

_Good question. I'm still trying to figure that one out. _

_Maybe he still cares about you—_

_NO. I am __**not**__ going to believe that, I am not going to allow myself to even consider than for an instant! There is no reason, there is no excuse, there is no logic capable of convincing me that he ever cared one bit about me. He just wanted to do his job-- to get close to me and "cure" me._

_He just wanted a pay check at the end of the week._

A minute passed in this dead silence. Dib hadn't even noticed that he'd stopped breathing—his hollowed chest vibrating with the heavy beat of his heart. His eyes were open, but he didn't take in anything, not the scatter of words beneath him, printed neatly on clean ivory paper, ever-faithfully ready to be explored, accepting his baffling stories and rants with open arms.

All at once, he moved again-- at first the tips of his fingers jerked in, crumpling the perfect white sheets beneath the digits. A blunt shout spilled from his throat, as Dib threw his arms to the side, hands taking piles of papers and notes with them, creating a flurry of rustling white as the papers flew through the air, each swinging from side to side, trying to reach the floor faster than the others.

Fists clenched at his sides, Dib stood shaking among the floating debris of his momentary temper flare. His frail body quivering with the effort of holding the rest of the tantrum in, Dib moved to swing around, and abruptly caught his foot in the leg of his father's old office chair. Flailing, his arms flapping wildly for balance in the air, Dib arced backwards through the air, heading inevitably towards the floor-- but not before he slammed his elbow on the nice hard surface of the desk.

The pain was instant, a searing agony that tore up his nerve endings in a relentless effort to make him feel every bit of this collision. His eyes flying wide, Dib seized his throbbing forearm—

--the ensuing shriek bouncing off the grimy tile of the bathroom. Clinging to his injury, the counselor slid to the floor, cradling the swelling limb between his chest and his free arm. He didn't need to inspect the damage to really determine the full extent of the injury—it was immediately apparent that something beneath his flesh was fractured, basing his logic solely on the force of impact his arm had made with the solid mass of bone that crowned the head of the alien.

Hearing the dull thud of fleshy toes collide with the floor, Dwicky's head jerked up in time to meet with the alien's-- a grotesque perversion of something that might have been human once.

Yelping, he backed against the disgusting wall, trying to be as friendly with the mold and filth as possible. Tiny critters of all shapes and sizes, but mostly composed of squishy insides with rigid exoskeletons crawled out and skittered across the filmy surface of the wall behind him, the color of the tile long since covered by a fine layer of grime and dirt. Whoever cleaned this public restroom had either retired or died a very long time ago, and their disappearance had never really been registered in the country office. Which wasn't too uncommon—the state was always looking for a way out of handing more pretty green paper into the hands of needy citizens.

The alien's maw recoiled into something that should have been a grin-- but Dwicky really couldn't tell. From its spit-lacquered mouth spilled a grungy language, resembling the sound of bare skin raking concrete, swearing children and voiceless cigarette victims. Dwicky could barely translate what the creature spoke, between the flinching and cowering it spurred him to do.

" 'been searchin' a highn' a low fer this'sun. " Following the mutilated sentence, the beast gave a brutal grunt to punctuate the triumph of the situation to his companion, simultaneously causing a thick dribble of snotty drool to spill over its lower lip and ooze repulsively in between the dirt-caked crevice of its toes.

Completely unaware of this nauseating occurrence, the second monster, in turn, spoke.

" 'shore did take'een awhile, eh? Din'think 'ed evar set'lle. " Twelve sets of wide-set, narrowed eyes gleamed in the dim, fluttering light of the fluorescent tubes, focused eerily on him. The closest beast reclined back on its haunches-- a momentary relief for Dwicky. For a heaven-sent moment, he basked in the cool air that rushed onto his glistening face, damp with sweat, savoring the taste of partially clean oxygen, as compared with the unnaturally vile breath of the alien.

Unfortunately, the moment was short lived, when the second beast stepped forward, swinging terribly close to Dwicky, coming nearer even than the first monster. Feeling the thick heat radiating off the fleshy body of the alien, Dwicky managed to lift his head enough and open his eyes, only to be met with malevolent eyes, boring intentionally into his own deer-like expression with merciless pleasure.

" tissa'ard thing t'go abut hunnin' mices-- always a'scurry 'nna scuttlin-- but once'er got'er _caught--" _At this, the creature gave a foul snarl, laced in with the word, disfigured teeth coming frighteningly close to Dwicky's delicate cheek. " Thenn'ums good as done'fer. "

Shaking, Dwicky opened his mouth in a feeble attempt to argue his rights-- but all that emerged was a frail whimper. Instantaneously, both beasts rolled back on their haunches, roaring with laughter at Dwicky's complete and utter helplessness. Still chuckling with vehement amusement, both the creatures began to advance on him, misshapen, lewd fingers groping out for his fragile, skinny limbs.

Eyes shut, Dwicky didn't even realize how long it was taking the creatures to grasp him, wherever they were reaching. When a moment longer passed, he opened his eyes, to see both creatures, stopped mid-action, their disgusting, half-gnawed ears perked up in the murky air, their heads facing the only entry into the rest room, which doubled as the exit. Growling softly, one of the aliens threw an intensely hateful glance at the cringing man below them, before straightening up and cracking its neck from side to side. Beside it, the beast's companion followed suit.

When the middle aged man entered the revolting excuse for a lavatory, he was rudely shoved aside by a scrawnier man. Turning around to watch as the other made a rushed exit, the newer occupant suppressed the want to flip off the still-swinging bathroom door—a rather silly habit among most human beings. Sneering instead, to better justify his end of the run-in, the man didn't even notice the other two burly figures in the room as he made his way to one of the pitiful renditions of a toilet—honestly, someone had to have some serious bladder problems, be blind, or just simply be stupid enough to use these restrooms.

The two towering monstrosities of human beings stood abnormally motionless in the corner, eyes shaded by curved, polarized sunglasses. Though completely unnecessary in the grimy, dirt-green lighting of the bathroom, their beady eyes could still be felt through the shiny plastic, enough to make one's spine curl—those pupil less irises constantly gleaming, seeking with a voracious, underfed craving.

Even when the man emerged form the stall, washed his hands under a lovely brown-grey torrent of water from a rusting sink, and dried his hands on a crusty, suspiciously brownish-red splattered towel, he never even thought to glance to the corner where they stood, gigantic, finely dressed walls of flesh and muscle, faces set in stone, unmovable, and intimidating. But the man wasn't all to be blamed for his inevitable ability to be oblivious.

It wasn't often people noticed bouncers in local bathrooms, anyway.

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Short, I know. Patience is a virtue, heh! Hope it was enjoyed.


	4. Side Affects

Chapter two, apparently

I'm going to apologise in advance for my extended absence. Another apology goes out for the other absence that will probably come after this. :P Sorry guys. I promise things will clear up once I'm out of school. For now, enjoy. I put a lot of effort into this chapter. Had to write it up twice. / Long story. :) Enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: Invader Zim & all its charaters are copyright to Nickelodeon Studios & Jhonen Vasquez.

* * *

_Breathe. _It was near impossible to—a battle to gasp for a moment's life suckled between flushed lips. Bodies crashing together in sultry waves, an ocean of hormones and heat, the taste alluring to any adolescent yearning for the space to spread his wings.

_Breathe._ Struggling, his throat's closing up; there's no air in this place and the endless push of the crowd is sucking the oxygen from his lungs. This is familiar. This mindless indulgence of young wishing to be older and older thinking that they're young.

_BREATHE!_ Dib threw his weight into the wall of people, forcing a split second opening through which he darted in-between before the waves took control again and the ocean of people closed into a solid vibrating mass once more. Instantly, he was greeted with the unfriendly solidity of the wall's black-washed cement blocks—damn industrial designing. Panting raggedly, he bent over, sliding his hands onto his thighs for support. Ignoring the growing tremors in his arms and legs, he patiently waited for the pieces of cracked concrete to line up correctly again, instead of spin around in frustratingly erratic patterns like they were.

Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea. Dib could understand his being upset over the appearance of an old enemy, but perhaps he shouldn't have given into that silk-speaking druggie's suggestions so quickly. Shit, he didn't even know what he'd taken. He barely remembered even taking anything.

_Breathe, Dib._

He sucked in a shaky breath, instantly regretting it as his head gave an uncomfortable lurch, his brain feeling like it was swelling inside his skull.

_Dib, Breathe._

_I'm trying. I'm trying, goddamnit—stop pestering me. _He tried to pull in another breath and this one left him on his knees. He crossed his arms over his belly. _That's odd. _His hands were on the floor. Palms down, supporting his bent form.

_Dib, Breathe!_ Dib gagged sickeningly, and his eyes rolled back into his head as the pair of arms crossed over his stomach pulled him to his feet. A figure, sporting a near-anorexic body and no identity, tugged and pushed a path to the doors, those conspicuous, hulking doormen once again eyeballing the lithe figure of the boy as he passed over the threshold.

Out on the street, the stranger pulled Dib to the side, keeping a sharp ear on his shallow breathing as he leaned him up against the wall, which Dib promptly slid down, landing rather bluntly on the concrete sidewalk.

" Shit! " The boy knelt down quickly, catching Dib before he slumped to the side. Holding him upright with one hand, he lifted Dib's head with the other, looking in the half-closed eyes, listening to his breathing. He sighed softly. " Jeez Dib… th' hell happened so bad to you.. "

Turning on his feet, he slid an arm behind Dib, the other pulling one of the boy's hands over the stranger's shoulders. Hauling both of them up, he began to head down the pitch black street, tugging the near-unconscious boy along with him.

Unbelievable, the place was still here. The nameless boy looked in not-so-surprised awe at the aged house, surrounded by normalcy and shabby suburban homes, yet still looking as technologically advanced as ever—a scientific and artful beauty to some. To others, a shiny prison in a field of pretty weeds.

Pulling Dib once again closer to him, the boy had taken one step towards the front walk, when a shrill cry sounded far to his right, causing him to startle and clutch his rescue in fear of dropping him again.

" DIB!! " The shrill cry belonged to a tall man, looking rather dirty and perhaps smelly also, and the stranger couldn't help but take a step back as the man raced up to them, instantly reaching for the frail body at his side. The only thing that made him let go of Dib, was the tone of the man's voice—he sounded genuinely panicked about the appearance of the teenager. Somehow the man looked familiar though..

" Jesus Christ! Oh my god.. what.. how, what happened? Why is he like this?.. Why is he like this!? " Suddenly he realized the shrill cries were being aimed at him, in the form of a sputtered question. Switching his eyes from Dib to the man, he was met with a frightened but suddenly angry glare. Finally, he spoke, caught off guard and stuttering due to the expression.

" I—uhm, I found him, like this.. in the club.. "

" What club? Were you with him!? What's wrong with him!? "

He swallowed, gripping his hands together in a stupid habitual cross-fingered position. " No, no I wasn't with him.. I found him at the side of the crowd shaking.. I think he took something a little strong. "

Dwicky, now cradling Dib in his arms, turned and headed quickly towards the front door, followed closely by the stranger. " Open the door—please. "

Silly guidance counselor courtesies, always spilling out unexpectedly.

As soon as the door was open, Dwicky maneuvered inside, moving so carefully to avoid collision between Dib and the door frame. He didn't pay attention to the stranger anymore, just the shivering boy in his arms. Crossing over to the couch, he laid Dib on the moth-chewed cushions, and as he reached up to brush aside several strands of charcoal hair from the sweat-soaked forehead, his heart sank into his stomach.

" Christ, he's burning up.. " Out of nowhere, the stranger appeared at Dwicky's side, offering a glass of water and a cool, damp washcloth. For a moment, the counselor looked up at the stranger, dumbfounded, like the kid had just materialized out of the wall.

Dib gave a choking gasp, and the interest in the stranger and his odd appearance was immediately forgotten and Dwicky snatched up the washcloth, slipping it over Dib's forehead and neck, wiping away the warm coat of sweat to replace it with cool water. Resting the cloth on Dib's forehead, Dwicky took the glass of water from the stranger, tipping it just barely at Dib's dry lips.

For a moment, nothing happened, and Dwicky thought that Dib might be drowning in a teaspoon of water. But then, the muscles in Dib's throat contracted, just barely, and he swallowed. Both Dwicky and the stranger simultaneously released the hold on their lungs, exhaling in relief. Dwicky steadily eased another tiny sip into Dib's mouth, as the stranger found himself a seat across the room, settling into a rather large, dusty wing-backed chair.

_Spinning. Why am I spinning. Making me nauseous. Can't feel anything. My legs. My hands. Was I in an accident? No. The club. The floor. My hands on the floor, but.. around my waist. God, my head hurts. Feels hot and cold and it hurts so much._

Dib pressed his fingertips into the crown of his head. He didn't dare take the heels of his palms from his eyes, he didn't know where he was, but wherever it was, it was insanely bright, which was not aiding his headache.

_I'm shivering. I can't stop shaking. God, where the hell am I? I can't remember anything other than the floor of the damn club. And feeling nauseous.. someone pushed my stomach in. No—the picked me up. Who the hell picked me up? Ugh—my hands are all sweaty._

Not wanting to expose his eyes to the light, but more disgusted by the sticky warm sweat of his hands, Dib gently relieved his palms from his closed eyes, letting them first adjust to the brightness through his eyelids before opening them, blinkingly.

Everything was white, so blindingly snow white. But as he looked, searched for something, anything, the brightness began to dim and face into muted hues. Those became darker, deeper shades, and lines—albeit extremely fuzzy and blurred—began to form.

His room. He was lying in his bed, covered all the way up to his neck and.. tucked.. in? Dib never had a mother, so he was unfamiliar with maternal habits. However, the affection in the action hung around him like that odd, icky bad-milk smell in grocery stores.

Sitting up proved to be quite a task, as Dib only got about an inch off the bed before becoming exhausted, and falling back to the mattress. Pulling his arms up from beneath the hot-blanket cavern, Dib again tried sitting up, this time scooting his hands to his sides and pushing up. It worked, and as he bent over his legs slightly, a near-dry washcloth plopped into his lap. Bracing his arms behind him, Dib stared at the neatly folded bit of material as he caught his breath, wondering how it got there. Surely he didn't put it there—he didn't believe in such mundane comforts.

_I still don't remember. I know damn well the floor didn't beat me up. What the hell happened to me last night?_

Lifting his head, Dib took in familiar bits, to confirm his location.

_Hmm.. door.._

_desk.._

_papers, chair.._

_window.._

…

_.. man?_

Dib stared confoundedly at the slumped over shadow resting in a chair not a foot from the head of his bed. How had be missed that? Focusing his gaze, he began to slowly recognize the tousle of black hair, unusually dirty, and the too-big button down business shirt, the casual slacks. Just as he brought his eyes back up from the pants, the ruffle of messy hair twitched and began to stir. A soft groaned, and Dib knew the counselor was waking up, with a nasty crick in his neck, no doubt.

His eyes narrowed.

Exhausted, confused, and burdened still with a gnawing headache, Dib was in no mood for explanations. He would have snapped at any stranger sitting in his bedroom, however..

.. something about this one really riled his angry side.

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Hope that satisfied you all's tastebuds. :3 G'night!


	5. Snap

Chapter two, apparently

Woot-- Last week of school. I'm graduating guys. That means more chapters, up sooner. I hope I haven't lost my few reviewers, I was really enjoying the feedback. :( I'm sorry I'm taking so long guys-- but don't lose hope, mmk? I'm still alive, I promise. :D Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Invader Zim & all its characters are copyright Jhonen Vasquez & Nickelodeon Studios.

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" _GET __**OUT!!**_ "

The shriek rocked the walls, causing the boy at the sink to snap upright from his bent position over the still half-full sink of fermenting dishes. The sound of a shattering piece of room décor made him flinch, and he dropped his washy-wash sponge and the plate he was fervently working on, shutting off the tap and hurrying into the shady room at the end of the hallway.

The sight that he saw was only slightly disconcerting. A shaking and apparently enraged Dib, tangled in his own bed sheets and wielding another breakable object, and a retired guidance counselor, up from his seat and backed into a corner, hands up in the typical, "I-surrender" fashion.

" You have no right, no _fucking right to be here!! _" Dib's voice cracked, still hoarse from the illness he was recovering from, yet by no means lowered in volume, as the skinny boy hauled the second piece of ceramic houseware at the cowering man.

Dwicky, on the other hand, ducked quickly to avoid this second object, the vase smashing just inches from his head, raining bits of ceramic into his hair, which he meticulously dusted off quickly before responding to Dib's enraged screaming.

" Dib, please, I didn't mean to, I mean, I didn't expect, I was just watching—"

" Watching what!? Watching me sleep, you twisted boy-fucking sonofabitch!! " Yanking the sheets from his feet, Dib hauled himself to his feet, resulting in an instant dizzy-spell, sending Dib reeling backwards, then forwards. Fortunately, he caught himself.

Or, someone else did.

Naturally thinking it was the counselor again, Dib cocked back a curled fist, aimed and swung—but his hand was caught in another. Dib knew damn well Dwicky didn't have the reflexes nor the sense to deflect a blow. So, naturally, he opened his eyes and looked up... into the face of a complete stranger.

_Great. More people infecting my one semi-safe haven. _" And just who the fuck are you, may I ask? " Dib glowered at the stranger, of whom was not only still holding his fist in his hand, but also had his free arm looped around Dib's upper torso, supporting most of his weight.

The boy smiled, an awkward, twitchy grin. " Doncha' remember me, Dib? I used to go to skool with you. Yanno'... Keef. "

Dib's glare slowly subsided into an expression of mixed confusion and a bit of concentration. After a moment, it moved on into one of recognition-- minus the usual joy of one reunited with an old friend.

"Oh. Hi Keef. Why are you here?"

Keef grinned jovially, like a puppy who'd finally learned the difference between shitting inside and shitting outside.

"I found you Dib, in the club. Well, I didn't _find_ you, find you. You just happened to be there when I was. Not to say you shouldn't go there--I mean, you're perfectly allowed to-- I mean, not to say I own the place--"

_If he keeps this up I think I might just go back into my coma._ Dib had slid back into his more familiar, monotonous expression. That changed when his eyes crawled across the room and started upon the still-cringing figure of the loathed guidance counselor. His right eye twitched-- as it had always done since he was a child, when something shocked, or surprised, or irked him.

"WHY ARE YOU STILL _HERE!?_"

Dib's still-hoarse shriek interrupted Keef in the middle of a sentence about handing out scones to old people in a nursing home, and caused Dwicky to make a sound curiously similar to that fuzzy-headed scientist muppet's seemingly only form of speech. Glaring malevolently, the only thing keeping Dib from leaping on the skinny twat in the corner was his lack of strength and the fact that he was still wrapped up in the arms of the infinite-babbler. Shutting his eyes, Dib surged his little strength into pushing Keef away and balancing himself on his own feet, face down and fists clenched out of pure frustration at this point. Trying to conserve the finite energy he had, Dib spoke quietly, which only served to make him come off more menacing than anything else.

"_I want you __**both**__, to __**get out**__ of my __**house**_."

The silence that settled over the room was suffocating.

Keef moved first, slowly and awkwardly, like a kid who'd just been told he's not as cool as he thinks he is. Lifting his hand in what looked like half an idea of a wave, he quickly dropped it down again, crossing the arm over his middle and wrapping his fingers around his other elbow. Eyes downcast, Keef turned and shuffled out of the room, leaving just the panting Dib, and the counselor who at this point looked like a small insect trying its hardest to become one with the corner of the room.

Dib waited until he head the recognizable click of the front door shutting. Finally lifting his head, Dib visibly flinched when he saw the man still in the room, not out of pain, out of sheer, unadulterated fury.

"I said, get. _Out._"

"No."

Dibs eyes flared wide open, this was the final straw, the last break he needed for the floodgates to swing wide open and release the buildup of wrath.

"_MOTHERFU--"_ The rest of the crude language peaked into one shrill cry of passionate rage, every negative event over the past week building up into one infuriated monster, breaking free from Dib in a savage, insatiable manner as the skinny body lunged full-force at the cornered counselor, fists flying and well-aimed.

The first blow was deflected by Dwicky's arm, as it swung instinctively up to shield himself from the enraged teenager, but Dib's second hand, wide open, landed hard on Dwicky's chest, thrusting the counselor violently back into the wall.

Feeling cloth beneath his palm, Dib's fingers clenched, and with a fierce heave, the boy hauled the cowering man from the corner of the room and sent him flying face-first onto the floor. Panting from the effort, Dib placed one foot at the left side of Dwicky--who was halfway through rolling himself over-- and swung his right leg, catching the flat of his foot perfectly with the face of the counselor and causing the man to reel backwards, his hands flying to cradle his face as blood vessels and muscles screamed their objections in the forms of bruises and a bloody nose.

Dwicky let out a brief shriek of agony, followed by sputtered pleas for Dib to cease. The teenager on the other hand, extended two open hands, only to grasp the shirt of the counselor and haul him to his feet aggressively. Without giving Dwicky a chance to even balance himself, Dib landed a malicious punch to his jaw, spinning the man a complete three-hundred sixty degrees, before he wobbled a few steps away and leaned into the wall, sliding down in a miserable pile of blood and limbs.

Still burning with anger, Dib stared at the counselor for a fleeting moment, before he started towards him again, blood-spattered fists clenched tightly.

Only the sound of a faint whimper made him hesitate.

Face still contorted in vehement wrath, Dib stilled his advance and stared once more at the pitiful mess before him. Again, a subtle sound of distress reached his straining ears. His right eye twitched again.

Whirling around, Dib shut his eyes tightly, grinding his nails into the soft flesh of his palms, fighting ruthlessly against the torrent of guilt that now threatened to wash away all traces of his previous hatred and fill every crevice of his mind with self-loathing and remorse.

It didn't work.

Suddenly wishing that he wasn't the killer standing over the victim, Dib desperately tried to think up a solution to this unanticipated rush of emotion. Nothing was getting through. Becoming agitated at his own lack of control, Dib opened his eyes and grabbed the first useful thing he spotted.

Snatching the still semi-damp washcloth, Dib flung it at the slumped counselor, the rag wilting dismally in Dwicky's lap, with no sign of being retrieved anytime soon. Dib, on the other hand, had already fled the scene, wanting to be relieved of the whole situation. Though he knew he wouldn't find one in the living room, it had to be a better place than his room, with the body of the beaten counselor on his floor.

Settling on the couch, Dib curled up on the armrest, one arm under his chin and the other resting over his head, his fingers wrapped up in his hair as his eyes focused on the entrance to the hallway, giving Dib the appearance of a cat awaiting the mouse's manifestation from its hovel.

A very thought-occupied cat.

Out of nowhere, Dib's wonderful sister materialized, scooting by in that robotic-walk, hand held video game plastered to her fingers.

"Maybe if you didn't attempt to kill everyone who comes close to you Dib, you might actually have some friends."

The comment, on normal circumstances, might've been reflected with a snort, or a drastically weak retort. As it was, Dib was too entangled in his thoughts to even realize she'd said something.

His thoughts, and his guilt.

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R&R Pz&Ty. :D


	6. Confessions

Chapter two, apparently

Well, that was an unexpectedly long break, wasn't it:) Don't kill me, plz.

As usual, Invader Zim and all its characters are copyright to Jhonen Vasquez and Nickelodeon Studios.

And I apologise for the long wait. I hope this makes up for it!

* * *

_Maybe if you didn't attempt to kill everyone who comes close to you Dib, you might actually have some friends._

Six and a half hours later, Gaz's words stung deeper and more painfully than if she'd been standing right in front of him, screaming them. The effort might have killed her, though.

Dib sighed for the umpteenth time, reheating the material of his sleeve that half his face was still buried into, his other hand having not budged from its over-the-head position either. If anything, in the course of three hundred and ninety minutes, Dib had managed to melt a good portion of his brain mulling things over.

_I shouldn't have hit him._

**Bullshit. You had every good damn reason to hit him.**

_What justifies beating an innocent man?_

**Innocent my ass—you're slipping into that pitiful, forgiving state again Dib. Don't you remember what he did to you? Something along the lines of, oh, utter betrayal?**

_I was a child. It was a mista—_

**All the worse for him to betray a child! He stole your trust, Dib, and he spat in your face. Don't be so naíve, Dib. You also remember what happened afterwards…**

_Don't.. _

**How they accused you.**

_Stop it.._

**Condemned you.**

_Shut up._

_**Punishedyou.**_

" **SHUT** _**UP!! **_"

Dib threw himself forward on his lap, panting raggedly as he jammed his fingers up into his hair roughly, willing the shivering in his body to cease. He didn't even see the dark-haired figure standing stiffly in the mouth of the hallway, watching him with tired but worry-filled eyes.

Timidly, a broken voice trickled through the tense atmosphere of the room.

" .. Dib? "

Dwicky remained at a fair distance from the shaking boy, still harboring some wary fears of the teenager due to the past hours' events.

When Dib didn't respond to his calls, Dwicky pushed a little more volume into his call, however the intended product didn't come out, and instead of a strong, commanding tone, Dwicky's voice cracked halfway, giving out a near-screeching pitch that made the boy on the couch jerk and twist his head up to look at the suddenly squeamish counselor in the hallway.

Dwicky shrunk back a little into the blanket he'd wrapped around himself, barely peeking out with those dark, childlike eyes.

" D-.. Dib? I—uh, I'm sorry.. t-to disturb you b-but I, uh, wanted to s-say s-s-sorry.. I shouldn't have been—"

" Are you alright? "

Dwicky blinked and looked up, having let his eyes fall to the floor in his stammered rush to apologize. He saw Dib, sitting forward on the couch with a weary look on his face, his fingers folded loosely together hanging past his knees. What caught the counselor's attention more than anything though, in the face of the teenager before him, was the trace of what looked like.. worry.

Dwicky stared at Dib, his mouth parting slightly in awe as he soaked in the emotion in the boy's face, at the same time registering a faint, growing twinge somewhere in the center of his chest.

It was strange, how feelings worked. Intangible, inanimate, mostly uncontrollable, and yet things like heartache.. actually hurt. Dwicky had to fight with himself not to leap across the space of tatty carpeting to the teenager on the couch, to wrap his arms around him and try and change that expression on Dib's face that ate at his insides.

Dwicky shook his head slightly and suddenly he was back standing in the hallway, the faintly warm blanket wrapped about his body, smelling of.. Dib.

" Dwicky? "

Oh jeez, had he been silent this whole time? Stupid head, rambling on and on. Now he didn't even remember what Dib had asked him in the first place. Before Dwicky could make himself look even more foolish, Dib spoke for him, relieving Dwicky's embarrassment a bit.

" Er.. How's your head? "

Oh yeah, that was it.

" Its, uhm.. its fine, I deserved it, really, don't worry about it—"

Dib's eyes flinched at the counselor's words, and in response, Dwicky's mouth dropped in immediate regret.

" Ah, no! I m-mean, I didn't deserve it at all! "

This time, Dib's eyes grew dark and instead of worry, there was a deeper sadness. He slowly dropped his head to stare at the carpeting.

Dwicky frantically racked his head. _Shit, shit, you're ruining this! He's actually talking to you with civility and you're fucking it all up!_

" I-uh.. Dib, don't feel bad.. I mean, maybe I did deserve it, maybe I d-didn't but uh.. It doesn't matter now, yeah? Its all over. "

_Ugh. How phony can you sound? Stupid counselor training._

Dib's head lifted slightly, but his eyes didn't return to Dwicky. Instead, they gazed half-lidded across the room at the black television, which stared right back with no consolation.

" Dwicky.. "

The counselor bit his tongue, actually surprised at the soft tone of the teenager's voice.

" .. Why did you come back here? "

Dwicky twitched backwards, almost reclusively into the hallway, suddenly not wanting to be in the room anymore, to not answer this question, to flee the confrontation and the questions that he knew were coming. His eyes quietly rested on Dib, a little less anxious now and more resigned and defensive.

" .. What do you mean? "

Feign innocence? Yeah, he could do that. After all, he was a psychotherapist.

Dib, however, was not so easily fooled. His head jerked up from the floor, pinning Dwicky with an utterly malicious glare, _daring _the counselor to play coy with him.

Dwicky's expression remained immovable, but his insides were on a hellish rollercoaster that was making him want to vomit.

Dib growled out his next words. " I want to know why you came back here. To Earth. "

The boy added that extra bit on, as if to specify what he wanted to hear, instead of some bullshit sidetrack.

Dwicky stared at him for a long time, weighing the pros and cons of spilling everything to Dib, a little bit, or none at all. Obviously, the kid wasn't tricked as easily as he'd hoped. Then again, he appreciated the fact that Dib wasn't just another mindless drone of the hundreds that populated the area. Even if it complicated things.

After an extensive period of silence in which the both of them could've burned each other's eyes out with equally intense gazes, Dwicky broke the eye contact, drawing his down to the floor.

The carpet appeared unusually interesting—more so than this moment. Dwicky wanted nothing more than to crawl down into the tiny spaces between each coiled piece of thread and hide.

" I ran away. " The words seemed to fall from his tongue like anvils and float in the air like a thick smoke that wouldn't disappear quick enough.

Dib, instead of goading the counselor on with more threatening tones, simply sat on the moth eaten couch and watched him, unaware of just how intimidating his glare was.

Dwicky seemed quite taken by the carpet at this point. " I came back here to escape from—"

The counselor's tongue seemed to writhe up in his throat and would not work. How could he tell him? What words would describe how utterly unfriendly the universe was?

_How could he describe the torment?_

One part of Dib wanted to relieve Dwicky, to give into the pity he felt whining at him in the pit of his stomach.

The other part, wanted to shove him back against the wall again and claw the words from his throat.

As if feeling the tension radiating from the boy on the couch, Dwicky picked up his head.

Dib stared at him, albeit without the intensity from a moment ago. A little bit of Dwicky relaxed inside, and before he knew it, his feet were leading him across the room to the couch, his legs bending to let him sit at the

other end of the couch.

Feeling the pivotal moment in their conversation nearing, Dib didn't even allow himself the comfort to lean back on the sofa. Instead, he remained quite still, only moving his head to allow his eyes to track Dwicky's movements.

Like a predator on its prey, approaching the opportune moment.

" I wanted to see you again. "

The words seemed to laugh in hysterical irony, shattering the heavy tension in the room into a million tiny pieces.

For a while, Dib only sat on the couch, staring at Dwicky in a new, profound manner. He looked as if he was unsure of what he heard, and at the same time, had heard it all.

Dwicky sat like a nervous student under the harsh scrutiny of his teacher, knees pulled tightly together, long, skinny fingers folded together haphazardly, head tucked down between angular, bony shoulders.

Only his voice, for once, seeped out even and confident from the depths under that messy rumpus of black hair.

" I came back for you, Dib. "

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:O Romance threads finally being introduced, what? R&R pzty. 


	7. Encounter

Tada! I return bearing gifts! And on the hour of my ability to post stories (pending the two day forced wait from ) :) Hopefully this is enough to lure my fans back and more! Thank you all again for bringing me back.

Disclaimer: Invader Zim and all its characters are copyright Jhonen Vasquez and Nickelodeon Studios.

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_You wanted to see me again?_

The lanky teenager stared dumbfounded across the spanse of frayed sofa cushions at the hunched figure at the other end of the couch. As he watched, the counselor raised his head marginally, just enough for a single dark eye to peer up over the horizon of his shoulder.

He was so pathetic. Looking for the first time at the counselor, not through hope, or anger, or violence, but truly studying the man, Dib could find no other proper adjective to describe the sad excuse for a person sitting in his living room. From the way his shoulders jutted out past his cheeks, knifelike due to the lack of muscle in them, to the messy, unkempt hair that grew in an unoriginal, flat black color atop his head. His arms were too long. His legs were too skinny. His face was too pale.

Imperfect.

Flawed.

Useless. Like him.

For a moment, only a brief, unprecedented moment, Dib wondered what Dwicky had been like as a child. Had he always been so deceitful, so faux-friendly? Or had he been full of curiosity, of belief that burned inside him, telling him there was more than just Saturday morning cartoons, getting an education, and having sex before you turned seventeen?

Had he, like Dib, believed there was more than just the planet Earth and all its cow-minded inhabitants?

_Don't be stupid. Of course he didn't. You're alone in your beliefs. Your ideals are your own and no one else's. You are alone._

_You are alone._

Dwicky watched as Dib's face, impassive to the uninterested eye, changed in fractions. His words had quite an impact, he knew. The feeling in the room single-handedly told him that. It moved from a slightly pressured interrogation to the sensation that fifty-six inflatable rafts had just had their cords pulled in the room. From the tiny space he could view Dib from over his misshapen shoulder, he saw the boy's face twitch slightly, the patch beneath his left eye specifically quivering. Dwicky tried not to chortle; he remembered this mannerism from Dib's childhood. But when the teenager's face changed again, the thought of laughing all but sprinted from his mind.

Suddenly Dib's eyes were hollow, and if the counselor wasn't imagining things, he could swear that the boy's eyes went a shade darker than they were a moment ago. Dwicky felt a familiar rise in his stomach that grew like a malevolent vine into his chest, wrapping its thorned strands around his ribs and pulling painfully.

_Speak._

Dwicky remained silent, his fingers unconsciously pulling the blanket tighter over his shoulders.

_Speak, damn you!_

"Dib, are you.. are you okay? " Dwicky's voice was barely audible, and if any other sound were being made in the house at the time, Dib probably wouldn't have heard the mouse speak.

At first, the boy made no sound. He didn't even move, his eyes hauntingly watching the counselor with an unfocused, empty gaze. Just as Dwicky worked up the courage to ask once again if he was faring alright, Dib spoke, his voice a ghost of a sound.

"You're a liar. "

Dwicky's tongue went dry. It suddenly wanted very much to stick to the roof of his mouth and never move again, but the counselor forced the words out.

"No, no Dib I would never lie to you—"

"LIAR! " Dib flew off the sofa, making Dwicky flinch back instinctively, waiting for the blow that was sure to come. "You're a fucking liar, Dwicky. "

It was painful enough to hear the boy say it, to feel him twist the knife, but to hear his name said in such contempt… and by him, of all people. Dwicky didn't notice the new, cold-wet feeling on his cheek, even as it collected just under his chin, and fell to his hands, curled neatly beneath his head. He was only mildly aware of the salty sting that rimmed his eyes, and ached behind them, and of the black vine taking a firm root somewhere deep inside him, somewhere soft and vulnerable, and agonizing.

Dib stood quivering in front of the couch, his fists clenched so tightly at his sides that the fine details of tendons and flesh stood out on his hands and arms. His head bowed and hidden from the counselor, the teenager clamped his teeth together to avoid biting down on something that might bleed. His eyes shut tightly, as if by doing so he could pull himself out of this situation, out of these events, and back to the monotonous, steady albeit disruptive life he had before.

An unexpected hammering at the door startled both of them, the sound and the force of the impacts vibrating the unfortunate, aged door cruelly.

Where Dib flinched inconspicuously to the side, his dark, angry eyes pinning the door accusingly, Dwicky made a sound like a startled dog, frightened deerlike eyes whirling around with his head to stare at the door like it might come capering across the living room like some horrifically awkward beast of disruption. When Dib moved in smooth, catlike strides towards the door in the resulting silence, Dwicky attempted to voice his protests, but what came out was a feeble squeak, overrun by the noise of the old door creaking open by Dib's hand.

On the cracked sidewalk leading to the door of the house, stood a pair of giants, dressed like they were protecting the president and standing shoulder-to-shoulder like a huge, fleshy barricade. Perched on matching pairs of oversized, wide-set noses were too-small, polarized sunglasses that gleamed in the light of the falling sun.

Dib stared unfearful at these monsters of men, disgusted at how the width of their jaws matched the diameter of the crowns of their heads. He spoke with an equally disgusted tone, though he tried to subdue it to a polite growl.

"Can I help you? "

The man on Dib's right spoke first, a grin that made Dib want to skewer his fat head, splitting the fleshy mask that was his face open to reveal unnaturally white teeth that looked inhumanly large and square.

"Please remain calm. We are here in pursuit of an intergala—international wanted criminal. We believe he may have taken up hiding in this neighborhood, and more specifically in this residential square. We need to search your home immediately. "

At the end of the warped spiel, Dib was no more convinced to invite these men into his house than he would an alien invader. Just as the man who'd been speaking lurched his weight forward, heading for the open space between Dib and the doorway, the skinny teen stepped into his path. In the shadow of the house, Dib could see a little more clearly through the dark lens of the man's sunglasses, and what he saw made a tiny part of him want to run screaming from the door as fast as his lithe legs would humanly carry him.

However, he didn't do either of these things, instead standing, perhaps a little stupidly, in the way of this monstrosity and his living room.

"I don't think that is going to be necessary " His voice was teetering on the civility he tried to balance when talking to strangers. Why he still did this, he didn't know. The boy knew every single person he came in contact with didn't deserve an ounce of his respect.

Hunkered down in the niche of the couch, a finely wrapped and tucked ball shook like the San Andreas fault, the man inside sweating enough to refill the ocean with fresh supplies, his fingers tangled up in damp knots of his black hair, his eyes wide and staring blankly into the itchy weave of the sofa cushion, willing every fiber of his being to meld and become one with the furniture beneath him. Dwicky had zoned out the instant he'd heard the voice of the first man, his survival instincts, pitiful as they were, constricting his limbs around his body, and tying his vocal cords into knots. The counselor couldn't have made a sound if he'd wanted to at this point. This was actually more in his favor than anything else.

When he heard the familiar thud of one of the men's heavily shod feet coming down onto the worn, weed-split door step, Dwicky almost opened his mouth to release a last, defeated whimper – but instead, Dib's voice came out of his throat.

No it didn't. It came from Dib. Lifting the edge of his shelter in the tiniest crack, Dwicky focused on the reflection of images in the oversized television set, the black mirror foreboding, but not as much so as the slightly transparent scenes it showed the counselor.

Dib nearly blended completely into the shape of the man that fit into the doorway now. If it weren't for his pale, slender arms and neck, Dwicky would have never seen him. The beast that stood in front of him, the abnormality that towered far above the scrawny teenager, with its tiny sunglasses fitted into the fat of its face, and its neck as wide as its head, sent hot fire into his stomach and made him want to retch.

_Why don't you get up? Why don't you protect him?_

I can't, I can't! Dwicky shook in the fear and the worry that raced with the adrenaline in his system, the sweat soaking his wiry frame like rain on clothes.

The man in the doorway, now far too close for Dib's comfort, smelled beyond description. A rancid, wet odor drifted off the crisp, spotless attire, and blocked Dib's nostrils from any other scent, any relief of the revolting stench. The man peered down at Dib, the stare behind the glasses making the teenager want to slam the door shut.

"Your collaboration is appreciated. "

It was no longer a question. Dib lost what little patience he had left, between the pressure of standing up to such an intimidating figure, and the unexplainable rising fear emanating from himself in reaction to the man. It had been a very, very long time since Dib had feared anything. And he didn't like it.

"You're not going to find anything here. You are not going to search my house, and if you continue to disturb me, I am going to have to contact my father, you may know him as the greatest scientific mind in the country...?" Dib let the end of his cloaked threat trail off, to let it really sink in that he was not just some neighborhood simpleton.

_Tch--Just like you, running under father's lab coat when you can't fend for yourself. As always._

**Fuck you.**

The gigantic man in the doorway, who had begun to lean forward in an attempt to simply frighten the tiny boy out from under his foot, hesitated, that repugnant grin returning to his saliva-whet lips. Rocking his weight onto his heels and stepping back to connect shoulders with his partner, he pinned Dib with an intense glower that burned through the glasses tucked into his face, the returned glare of the setting sun unable to conceal the threat in the man's pointed stare.

His voice came out in a gravelly tenor that reminded Dib of flesh being torn from the bone it grew from.

"Your lack of cooperation has been noted. "

_**Slam.**_

Shaken but not willing to show it, Dib stood in front of the rickety door for a while, eyes closed, trying to will away the tingling, burning sensation that seemed to have settled in his retinas.

When the blanketed counselor touched his shoulder, the teenager reacted in instant defense, gripping Dwicky's outstretched hand with his own in a movement too fast for either of them to follow. The counselor cried out in the ensuing pain of bone pinching nerves, and in response, Dib released him, realizing his mistake.

"Dwicky—"

"You protected me. " Dib stopped and stared into the gleaming eyes of the man standing beside him, noting the dampness of his hair, the paler-than-usual complexion, and the stress induced red tinge lining the lower border of his eyes. Why hadn't he noticed these details before? So tiny but so evident at the same time, the way the counselor always seemed to be fidgeting or quivering in some manner, how submissive he was..

.. how easy it was to strike him down.

"You can stay here as long as you need to." It was a very flat, very unsentimental offer, not that Dwicky saw that.

"Thank you, oh thank you Dib, you have no idea what this means to me, you're so wonderf—"

"On one condition." Dib hadn't let his eyes fall from Dwicky's, crushing swiftly a small part of him that lit up with the counselor's sudden joy. When he spoke again, he made sure the frost of his remark made it to Dwicky's ears.

"You stay _away_ from me."

Turning from the room and the man standing in it, the teenager took the familiar path worn into the faded carpet that led him towards his room. Deep down inside himself, he battled with a pleasure and an anguish that fought for dominance at the memory of that glow slipping from the counselor's eyes like color from a dismal canvas.

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Read, review, show me that'cha still love me :3 Chapter 8 is in the writing stages and will be up soon.


	8. Knowledge and Theft

Yay! 54 hits! And here's chapter 8. : Although I can't say I'm too pleased with the lack of reviews. Come on guys, let me know if its any good, or as good as it used to be. :)

Disclaimer: Invader Zim and all its characters are copyright Jhonen Vasquez and Nickelodeon Studios.

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You wanted to see me again

The next several days passed with the fascinating appeal of a snail crawling along. True, it was vaguely cute, and intriguing, but it took so damn long to get by.

Dib prided his ability to ignore most whatever he wanted, at any point in time during his life. It was how he slunk along, day by day, without having any "episodes." That's what the shrinks called it. That's what _he_ would have called it.

Physically, Dib's upper lip curled into a noiseless snarl, the slender hand resting on the files in front of him jerking into a clawed pose, crumpling the corner of the paper beneath it. His eyes narrowed into lightless, black slits at his lack of concentration, his opposite hand tangling around strands of inky locks in the forefront of his head and tugging, as if he could jostle the thought of the counselor out of his head. Why couldn't he drive off the nagging thoughts of Dwicky? Every five seconds it was this idea or this remark or this memory. He couldn't focus on anything for longer than three minutes and thirty-seven seconds. He'd timed it.

Releasing his clenched hold on the undisturbed hair, he made to flatten out the crinkled edge of the file.

_At least my habits are still intact._ He snorted wistfully. Sighing heavily, Dib reclined in the old office chair, resting his elbows on the black, plastic armrests, and folding his birdlike hands over his stomach, eyeing the flat lake of speckled black and white before him.

The teenager had been like a ghost for several days following the event with the giant men. Retreating for extended hours into the gloomy cavern of his room at the end of the hallway, emerging only for small necessities – food, utilities, the occasional book or tool from somewhere in the house that he already hadn't gathered into his study area.

He reveled and hated these few circumstances when he left the sanctity of his room, leaving himself vulnerable to altercations. Gaz would be her typical self, sporadically seasoning his hours with a cynical jab here, a dry insult there. Dib was used to this, and mostly ignored it. What he was not accustomed to, was a full grown man timidly shadowing nearly every move he made, watching him like a mouse from its inconspicuous den. The teenager relished these moments when he felt the longing stare of the counselor's nibbling at his backside, willing him to look, to greet, to do anything to recognize the existence of the other. He also loathed these times; not only was Dib unfamiliar with the feeling of self-esteem, but the same feeling that gave him this egotistical rise also ate away at him like a disease. He knew the cure, it was never sitting farther than a few feet away from him. But before he could ever surrender the whole silent event, he would always force his legs to face the dismal hallway, and take him back to his refuge, where he would become once more edgy, irritable and deniably miserable.

Dwicky had watched this charade and took part in it for nearly a week now, quietly entertaining himself between moments when the lanky boy would surface from the shadow of the hallway. Watching with the utmost intense apprehension, the counselor would very nearly shake the clothes from his shoulders following Dib with the hopeful eyes of a child from one end of the room to the other, and back again, releasing the breath he held painfully whenever the teenager once again retreated without giving him a single relieving glance. If only Dib would simply acknowledge him, then he might be able to analyze the tone, and the words, pick them apart and figure out what Dib was feeling, and thinking. If only he would speak, Dwicky could soak in the words, savor the aggressive but social tone, the way he would stop and grant him existence in the boy's eyes. The thoughts caused a tiny, absent smile to curl up his pale mouth, his eyes glossing over naively in his moment of inattentiveness.

The first couple of days had been the worst. Dwicky had all but hovered over the mouth of the hallway, waiting for Dib to emerge, and when he did, the counselor would ghost the boy wherever he went, asking him how his day had been so far, and if he was feeling alright, if he wanted to talk about anything, what he was working on, did he need any help, he was sure he could contribute something..

..would he like something to drink?

..was there anything he could do for him?

..what was he looking for?

It was nearly incredible the number of queries that the counselor could come up with off the top of his head. They flooded out of his mouth like he was ticking them off a prewritten checklist in his head, all the while Dwicky stood a foot or two from the stormy teenager, a wary smile betraying his friendly approach. The counselor would continue his advance until Dib would either dive back into the entrance of the hallway, or the tempestuous boy would let off a low, threatening growl in the depths of his throat, his normally steady motions of retrieving what he needed grinding to a halt as he awaited the retreat of the pestering counselor, which was an effect quickly following.

Now, in the later days, it had reached a recurring method.

Dib would emerge. Dwicky would cease whatever he was doing at the time, all eyes on the source of his nervousness. Dib would go about doing whatever it was he'd come out to do. Dwicky would begin to feel and disregard the sting of a lack of oxygen in his lungs. Dib would submerge. Dwicky would exhale, relieved but altogether disappointed at another chance flown by.

In the time that Dwicky was not watching the teen with a childish eagerness, he was exploring the house, with more and more curious nerve every day. Although the dwelling did not give any profound clues or tell any remarkable stories of Dib's life, it passed the time to look at each individual shelf, corner and niche.

It hadn't taken long for the brooding sibling to discover this subservient new addition to the abode. Far from taking Dwicky under her wing, Gaz had instead employed the counselor as her new favorite attendant. Anything she needed from a can of soda to a blanket from her room was fetched on a whim, Dwicky all the more compliant with her demands due to her ominous, intimidating appearance.

After roughly a week and a half of settling into the new routine of serving the menacing girl, picking his way through a nerve-wracking series of Dib's appearances, and exploring the house—more often than not cleaning it as he did so—someone finally spoke to him.

"Why are you so obedient?" The jeering tone of the violet-haired sister poked Dwicky in the back, just as he had begun to return to his explorations after handing her a demanded can of Fizzy-Soda.

At first, Dwicky was sure he had imagined it, so his first reply came out in a confused, ".. huh? Did you say something, Gaz?"

Gaz snorted into her soda, her eye quivering at the stupidity radiating from the man. "I didn't stutter." Politeness was a commodity Gaz had never bothered to attempt to afford. Though she thought she was handling the conversation in a relatively sociable manner, her words still came out like knives.

"Oh, I—well.. I don't know, you ask for things, so I just bring them. Why shouldn't I?" Dwicky turned to face Gaz, his hands nervously rising in front of him to cling to each other and rub his index fingers together avidly.

"Hmphf. And you wonder why Dib walks all over you." Gaz paused the flashing, squealing game in front of her, silencing the racket as she lifted the soda to her mouth, her cold, lifeless eyes rising to fasten onto Dwicky's pale, watery blues.

Hurt tinged the edges of Dwicky's expression—a reaction Gaz devoured happily like a sacred drink. "He doesn't.. do it on purpose though. I'm sure he's just busy with things, and soon enough he'll have some free time. He doesn't… doesn't hate me." But the conviction that Dwicky spoke with was all but transparent, and he was no longer looking at Gaz, but into his own mind, his eyes unfocused and distant.

"Tch. Of course he does it on purpose. Do you think he likes you? Don't you have any idea what happened after you conveniently went missing?" Gaz felt a wicked tickle at the edges of her mouth, the beginnings of a grin begging to be released, a grin filled with the pleasure of soaking in the tumultuous emotion wafting off the counselor, like some malevolent dead tree pulling the evils of the world into itself as sustenance.

"What happened? Do you mean, something happened to Dib?" Dwicky's eyes were suddenly alert and imploring, as the counselor unconsciously took a step towards the tiny crow-girl perched at the edge of the couch.

"Well, your disappearance couldn't exactly go unexplained, could it? After all, people always want explanations for things, and suddenly our school was out of a shrink…" Her eyes narrowed, but not out of hatred—out of mirth. The more she spoke, the more Dwicky's childish, innocent expression was gradually subsiding into one of sickened understanding. His pretty cerulean eyes widened, the pupils shrinking, and that delicate mouth opened in a unvoiced cry Gaz could imagine would be somewhere along the lines of distressed, or agonized. She continued without pause, fighting back the grin that battled to reveal her malicious delight in the situation. "People want to blame something; they need to... punish someone."

"I never—" Dwicky began to speak, his voice a million shattered pieces, choked and barely perceptible, when another stronger, commanding voice covered the counselor's weak attempt up.

"That's enough, Gaz." Dib stood in the frame of the hallway, his dark eyes making the gloom of the hallway look brightly lit, the glare trained on the purple-haired demon making the room seem to heat up.

"You always manage to ruin everything, Dib." A sneer, and the girl was up and headed towards the front door. "Enjoy your broken toy." The grin released, Gaz glanced at the trembling counselor, who was still staring at the girl with a look of utter desperation, as if begging her to take it back, to tell him it was all a lie. A horrible, humorless lie.

But she slammed the door after her, causing a few pictures and small things to rattle on their shelves and hooks, leaving behind only a devastated counselor, and an air of newly risen unease between the two lingering in the room.

Dwicky unsteadily lowered himself into the armchair that was conveniently set behind him, resting his elbows on his knees and letting his hands dangle before him limply. His eyes stared out vacantly, his mind a cloudy lake of questions and facts he did not want to speak or hear. When he did speak, it was soft, and pained.

"Dib, I—"

**SLAM.**

Dwicky flinched, his head jerking in the direction of the blunt, unexpected sound. Rising from the chair, the counselor began to move for the hallway, driven by something beyond his nervousness, and fears and all the things that had held him back from chasing after the boy all this time. Only one thing stopped him at the mouth of the hallway.

The knock was heavy, and delayed, as if it carried a manner of authority all its own. His eyes switched between the door and the hallway for a brief moment, before another knock broke him, and Dwicky slunk disappointedly over to the front door, that driving urge he'd felt a moment ago subdued and near-nonexistent now.

"Hello, I don't—" Before Dwicky could even inform the guests of his status in the home, his voice evaporated in his throat.

"Greetings again, Mister Dwicky, its been too long."

His eyes wide, Dwicky whirled around, his feet tripping over themselves. Suddenly the distance from the door to the hallway was much too far away, and he had become a mute. In the moments before the black fabric bag was hooked over his head, Dib imagined for a fleeting, hopeful moment that he saw Dib walking around the corner of the hallway, running to him, and saving him from this unexpected turn of events. But then everything went black, and his voice refused to return to him, and he was hoisted off of solid ground.

He still thought he was imagining things when he heard the boy's shrill, squeaky shout echo in the living room, and footsteps heard only because Dib's meager amount of weight was thrown into the carpet in a run.

"DWICKY! Where the fuck are you tak—" That was as far as he heard Dib's voice go, before a flat, nauseating thunk struck the air, cutting him off. It sounded strangely like flesh colliding with flesh, and a sound like something heavy hitting the concrete followed soon after.

Dwicky didn't even recognize the sound that tore itself from his throat, sounding nothing like he'd ever make; how could it be him? His throat seared with pain as he unknowingly birthed it, aware only of his lanky body flailing wildly as he heard Dib's name screamed by someone's voice he didn't recognize over and over again. The thick body that held him prisoner gripped him painfully, and just as the counselor reached to tear the blinding cloth off his head, another thick fleshy sound resounded, except this one reverberated in his head for a brief moment, and he felt his control over his limbs receding, his head lowering to the shoulder of the thing beneath him.

As quickly as he'd felt the need to escape, it was gone, along with every other thought and need; he was out cold.

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R&R it guys! Hope you enjoyed! Chapter 9 up soon.


	9. Bill

**Well it certainly has been a while. Big writers block I guess you could say. :) Enjoy**

**All characters are copyright to their respective owners.**

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_I'm falling so fast. Where is the ground? I can't see a thing._

Steadily as Dwicky concentrated, small details became more focused and he was aware of the bottomless sucking sensation in the pit of his chest that came with the exhilaration and terror of freefalling the way he was now. He felt the ripping wind pulling his char-black hair violently toward the back of his head, the force of the rushing air pressing against his body and his eyes, the pressure making it almost impossible to open his eyes. But even when he managed to crack his eyes open in the slightest, he saw nothing but a vast bright white that blinded him, wordlessly commanding his body to knit his eyelids back together tightly even as his mind rebelled and wailed for them to open and let him see.

It seemed like hours that sifted past, the milliseconds like the tangible air combing through his open fingers, flowing by with an immeasurable speed and yet still not fast enough to go by quickly. Then finally, a change came. Hope for some kind of alteration from this falling nightmare that was eating a fear-lined hole in his belly, no matter how fractional or grand, was something Dwicky had no doubt been encouraging for some time now. However, the change that did come was not exactly the kind he was asking for; his mouth wrinkled up slightly as his head tucked into his chest a little at the feel of a tingling, stinging sensation around the left side of his waist. Abruptly, the stinging flared into a white hot shot of agony that bit into him with a furious rage, scorching the invisible edges of a hole he was sure he could feel opening up in his side. Opening his mouth against the force of the pressing wind, Dwicky erupted with a visceral cry that rose to a raw crescendo…

…half deafening himself as the scream poured from his throat and rattled off the walls, leaving his throat searing as if he had just swallowed a bottle of ninety proof liquor. The smells that immediately assaulted his senses was enough to make bile rise in his sore throat, amid the many of them the scent of burning flesh was the most sinister and disturbing of all. Coughing dryly, Dwicky shifted against a carpet that had long ago lost most of its color, and now surrendered to a moldy blackish-green shade. In fact he wasn't entirely sure that was just the color, as the smells that were emanating from the fibers suggested an entirely different story. He pulled his right arm out from its snug place tucked under his body, pressing his hand into the carpet which—to his undefined horror—sank in with a grotesque squelch, cold, black translucent fluid flooding out from the braided hairs around his skinny hand to pool on top of his knuckles and between his fingers.

"_AUGH!!_" Dwicky shrieked, scrambling backwards across the carpet, sending small curtains of water spraying up into the air where his hands or shoes dragged across the soaked fabric. "Oh.. Oh god.." He pressed the back of his wrist to his nose and mouth, the material of his shirt sleeve there still mostly dry. The odor was suffocating. He gagged in response to the permeating scent of mold, mildew, rot and an underlying coppery tinge that reminded him of the tang that came with generous amounts of blood in open air.

From all around him a sudden raucous thundering laughter boiled up crudely into the air, causing Dwicky to flinch and cower back against the wall behind him, his eyes darting wildly around trying to make sense of the gray, undulating masses surrounding him. Out of the corner of his eye, a large patch of the jiggling, laughing mass separated itself from the chaos, moving towards him in heavy thudding steps. Dwicky swung around just in time for an enormous meaty appendage he could only assume should be a hand to grab him by the scruff of his wet shirt, lifting him dripping and limp from the floor.

"W-where am I-I.. Its so c-c-cold I need to—to—ggkkak!!" Dwicky's shuddering sobs tapered off into a gasping choke, as the creature that had pulled him from the floor lifted him into the air, a few extra fingers that were definitely not normal to human anatomy extending out in gross proportions to wrap around his throat and squeeze in such a way as to cut off most of his air flow. The panicked counselor instinctively flailed, scrawny legs kicking at the open air below him as his lean fingers reached up to writhe desperately across the slimy surface of the arm that held him, his eyes wide with bewildered shock.

"Nnnnot sssso harrrrrd, Yllsla. I sssstill wannnt him alllllive." The lilting voice simmered out into the room, irresistibly beautiful and as treacherously dangerous as mercury. Dwicky gagged once more, before he felt a lift of the pressure to his trachea, and he gulped in a rancid breath of heavy, humid air. Although now that he knew who was standing in the room with him, he kind of wished that whatever was holding him would have just clenched a little tighter and gotten it over with.

A rippling, lucent figure distinguished itself then from the group lining the dimly lit room, striding slowly but determinedly towards the pair at the center. Dwicky unconsciously released a tiny whimper, his body convulsing in minute spasms that only faintly resembled the frantic thrashing from only a moment ago. This one was not slimy, or meaty like the others around him. He wasn't grotesque or odorous; before Dwicky stood a man of about six and a half feet in height, his finger length rosy flaxen hair pressed back to his head in glistening, waving locks. His steely blue eyes were subtle but indifferent, the mouth closed in a straight line bordered by soft looking lips, leading down to a strong jaw line that framed his entire serpentine visage. As the man eyed Dwicky, the counselor could literally feel his body growing colder. The smallest of smiles crept into the corner of the blonde man's mouth.

"I missssssed you ssssso much, counnnnsssselor." His voice slithered around Dwicky's ears, seeming to lick at his cheeks obscenely.

"You h-h-have n-no right t-t-to be he-here… to c-capture me l-like this a-a-and my f-fr—" Dwicky's eyes grew large then as his words reminded him of something excruciatingly important, so much that he burst out with more sound than he truly had the energy for. "**WHERE IS HE**!?, WH-WHERE IS D-D-DIB WHAT H-HAVE YOU D-DONE WITH HI-HIM!!" The end of his outburst tailed off in a pathetic squeak, as he fell limp again, panting into the slick arm of the monster holding him up.

Out from the chest of the man standing before him, Dwicky heard what he swore were two vocals entwined closely together, bubbling around each other into a joyless laugh. He lifted his head with some effort, his tired eyes seeking out the cool steel of the other man's.

"I assssure you, your friennnnnd is ssssafe with ussss." Midway through his sentence, the man extended one bloodless pale arm out to the dangling shrink, his fingers reaching out to brush along the thinly veiled skin beneath the clinging wet shirt, savoring the subsequent tension in the muscles of the spots he touched. "I cannnnnnot sssay the sssame for you, howevvvvver."

Dwicky bit back the hiss he felt surging up in his aching throat as the beast in front of him ran its sinful appendages across his torso. His eyes seemed to darken in fear watching the creature he wished he never knew so well. This sickening façade to try and look human only made the counselor want to retch even more, the true image of the man etched severely into his memory.

"P-please just l-l-let D-Dib go.. he isn't a part of th-this. You c-can't hold hostages on th-this planet its illegal—"

"Ssssince when did I ansssswer to annnnyone?" The blonde snake had veered frighteningly close to Dwicky's face, the voice vehement and his breath frigid on the counselor's cheek. Dwicky opened his mouth as if to shriek, but no sound emerged. Instead he directed his eyes as far down to the floor as he could, holding his breath for fear of inhaling something that would make him gag or sneeze or do anything other than hold as still as possible so close to the pale man.

"I havvve to admit, the chasssse you havvvve led me onnn hassss been quite pleassssing…" The man cocked his head, bringing his icy mouth close enough to numb Dwicky's ear. "_I'm ssso prouuud of you._"

"But, I'm afrrraid," The snake pulled away allowing Dwicky to release a quiet, shaky exhale, "that yourrrr little game issss up. I founnnd you, I _caught_you, annnnd nnnnow, you will come home with me.." He stood up straight and settled his inhuman eyes on Dwicky's, seeming to feed on the childlike terror that had taken hold of the counselor's entire frail body.

"Where you belong."

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The solid black muck that could only assumedly be water had long since soaked through Dib's pants and shoes, and was working on thoroughly saturating his skin. He sat on a chair that groaned in agony with each tiny movement he made, submerged up to the bottoms of his kneecaps in the chilly lake that filled the entire floor of the basement. Bound by several painfully tight knots in a number of places along his body to the chair behind him, Dib had given up for now on pulling loose from the wet rope that was eating into his thin flesh. He sat still on the dark-soaked wood of his throne, panting in soft shuddered gasps and watching his breath drift up in a visible cloud to the ceiling. His lips had darkened to a muted shade of blue and his eyes hung half closed, his body seemingly stuck in a never ending shiver.

He couldn't completely remember how he'd gotten here. The evidence of his memory loss burned dark red and ugly purple on his jaw, running in a dark jagged line up his swollen cheekbone. Whatever had clobbered him had hit supremely hard; Dib had been in many a fist fight before, but the person—if it had actually been human, which he severely doubted—who had landed the blow that knocked him out had been utterly underestimated by Dib.

The unexpected rapid surge in vocals through the floor above him caught Dib's attention though, pulling him from his thoughts abruptly. The scream seemed to rip through the water laden floorboards and electrify Dib in his seat, causing him to sit bolt upright in the chair and strain to listen to the first sound he'd heard in hours besides the incessant musical drip of water from the soaked ceiling.

Steadily, muted voices wafted down to Dib in spontaneous blurts and whispers. Amid the irregular conversation, a subdued hissing resonance began to rise. The more he listened, the more it occurred to Dib that the hissing wasn't coming from just the floor above him. It seemed to be sticking to him, buzzing around in and about his head, vibrating his thoughts and shaking his concentration loose. Shutting his eyes as the drone grew louder, Dib opened his mouth and cried out, his expression twisting in angry discomfort. Just when it became unbearable, Dib felt it subsiding and dissipating into the background of his mind, no more annoying than the post ache of a receding migraine. Dib moaned softly in relief, his exhale causing tiny rivulets of cool breath to wash up over his face, channeled by curves and dips of the material pressed to his mouth.

It was then Dib realized there was a warm black glove held against his mouth; more specifically one with a hand sheathed inside it.

Instantly Dib tensed, a growl rising in his dry throat as he thrashed with all his waning strength against the body standing behind him, intent on causing some fraction of damage, however menial. The black glove clenched, gripping both of Dib's shallow cheeks in one firm hold and serving to mute any sounds that might exude from his bared mouth. From behind him came a long arm, sleeved in heavy black cloth which wrapped around Dib's skinny upper torso, directly severing all movement the boy had created with his weak flail.

"Cool it kid, before you wake up grandma." Hot breath warmed Dib's numb ear, causing him to close his eyes in bliss for a second before the voice began to speak again. "You need to get out of here before you catch your death."

_Why does that voice sound so familiar?_

Dib steadily realized that somewhere between struggling to get free and sitting half submerged in icy water, he had lost his own voice. He gasped shortly at the stinging sensations that rushed into his arms as his unknown liberator made quick work of his ties, gently slipping the ropes individually into the water so as not to make the slightest of sounds. Now that Dib thought about it, he hadn't even heard them come in through the heavy timber door that stood wedged between the grimy black stone of the walls in the basement, nor had the person made a sound slipping in or moving about in the shin-deep water filling the floor. At least, that's what a half frozen boy with most likely a concussion could recall.

The man—so Dib assumed it was by the baritone ring in his words and sounds—grunted as he cut the last of the bonds beneath the water that stayed impervious to the dim light reflecting off its murky surface. Exhilarated to finally be free from the rocklike chair, Dib pushed off the waterlogged wood to stand, and promptly began to fall over.

Once again those heavily coated arms encircled Dib's slim midsection, securely holding him upright in a warm, loose embrace. Annoyed at his need for help to stand upright, Dib struggled to nod his thanks to the man even though it allowed him a closer look at his rescuer's face.

A slight and almost gentle looking visage betrayed the strength that hid beneath the man's arms and body. His eyes watched Dib not in the way a concerned and worried person might look at someone about to slip into hypothermic shock, but more like how a stern parent watches their kid right before an important event, silently bestowing the pride and confidence in them that they know their child can accomplish this task with ease. Dib was taken aback by the sincerity in the eyes, the diminutive rise in cheekbones, and the strikingly beautiful blossom of mild flushed color that was the man's mouth. He opened his mouth to ask, _who are you?_ Unfortunately, it came out sounding more like,

"Hnng auu uua?" Dib stared dumbly at the man for a moment, and the man stared back with equal confusion before smiling a bit uncomfortably, and hoisting Dib a little more into his arms.

"Come on kid, let's get out of here and warm you up." Bill began as quietly as possible to slosh through the thick water towards the door. Hauling the waif of a boy around wasn't hard, he barely weighed a thing. Something he was sure hadn't changed since the kid had been in Skool. He still couldn't believe his rescue mission involved a civilian, let alone one he knew. Holding Earthian hostages was extremely illegal, and neglecting them so much as to leave them down in a cold, flooded basement made the crime all the worse. Cautiously, Bill leaned Dib up against his body and cracked open the door fractionally, peering out as far as he could look in both directions. It seemed like the inhabitants of the building had gathered in a central room upstairs to discuss something. _Hostage negotiations no doubt. Or slave trade. Filthy marketers._ Bill felt a tiny sneer edge along his mouth as he edged the door open a little wider, scooting both himself and Dib outside the cold basement and into a slightly warmer hallway.

As he shut the door silently behind them, Bill wrapped his arm securely around Dib's waist, draping the kid's arm around his shoulders for extra support before starting down the heavily carpeted and squishy hallway. A tug at his lower arm stopped him, his eyes swiveling around to the kid cradled against him. Dib's wide eyes caught Bill's attention instantly, causing him to lean in close with narrowed eyes.

"What? What?? What's wrong, Dib? Are you injured?" Dib's reply came in swift, short shakes of his head and his eyes shut tightly, his mouth working desperately to form audible words. Bill leaned in close, so that the boy's chilled lips rested right beside his ear, the bloodless skin almost making him jump.

"N-n-nother.. p-pers-s-on… n-need h-h-help…" Dib shivered as the water squishing around in the carpet began to flow out over his feet. He brought his eyes up as Bill pulled away sharply, pinning Dib with an intensely shocked and angry gaze.

"There's someone else here? With you?" Bill whispered hastily. If there was someone else to be rescued, it needed to be done quickly. Dib was already moving into the more severe stages of hypothermic shock, and he needed to get out of this freezing, wet hellhole.

Dib's nod confirmed his fears and Bill growled, glancing around the hallways again to note his options. He looked back at Dib, leaning close so he could speak quieter. "Do you have any idea where they might be?" The boy's discontented shake of his head spurred another scan of the hallways. Mentally shaking himself from the clinging fears that would send him running towards the exit he knew was there, dragging the boy screaming if he had to, Bill pressed Dib close to himself willing his body heat to warm the kid and pull Dib up from his freezing temperatures.

Humoring himself with a quick game of Eenie-Meenie-Miney-Moe, Bill chose a direction—preferring to go the direction they were already facing, instead of putting Dib through the hassle of turning around—and began shuffling down the soggy red-carpet laden hallway cradling Dib in a firm one-armed embrace that held the teenager weightless against Bill's side, rather than supporting his feeble walking.

_If—no, when we get out of here kid, I've got some catching up to do with you._ Bill thought absently to himself, feeling Dib's head drop down against his shoulder as the boy fell unconscious. _Hold on til then._

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**Chapter 10 up soon. :)**


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